Page:Poems Sherwin.djvu/91

Till quite enchanted with her song,
Near her he lingered all day long;
And when each shade of gray was gone,
And morn her living light put on,
Towards the bower he gently press'd,
Where Philomel had sunk to rest,
And gazed, in admiration deep,
Upon the songster in her sleep;
Nor moved he till noon's sultry hour
Spread forth its beams on tree and flower,
And sounds of busy day were heard,
Which roused the gently slumbering bird.

 Away, away from tree to tree,
With fairy lightness, full of glee,
Free as the wind, she fluttered round,
Swam through the air or swept the ground,
Till eve once more her curtains drew,
And sprinkled earth with chrystal dew;
And then the light and happy bird
Regained her bower. Once more was heard
In softly modulated strain,
The nightly song o'er dell and plain.
Again the lovesick hog drew nigh,
And with a fond, a deep drawn sigh,
In language feigned his suit preferred,
And thus addressed the tuneful bird:—
 "Oh, loveliest songster of the vale,
Deign but to listen to my tale;
For thee I pine—for thee I burn,—
Oh, grant my love a kind return;